


Knives Up! Amateur Hour

by secretagentfan



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Asch is there because reasons, Cooking Competition AU, M/M, Reality TV, Slow Burn, Some odd pairings here and there, Technically a Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: It's the amateur cooking competition to end all amateur cooking competitions: Knives Up!With twenty-five thousand dollars on the line and some friends behind the camera it seems as though Ludger's been preparing his whole life for this opportunity.There's just one problem: reality TV loves drama and Ludger Will Kresnik?Well, he just came to cook.
Relationships: Jude Mathis/Ludger Will Kresnik
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Knives Up! Amateur Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wickedlupin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlupin/gifts).



> SABRINA THIS IS FOR YOU, I'm your Tales Secret Santa woooooooo
> 
> This fic way...ran away with the specifics and he's just gonna have to be a long boy. So I'll be sending him out in chapters. I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! <3

— Talking head 1—

“So how would you describe your culinary style?”

Ludger laughed. It was not the appropriate response, but it was 3:30am and there were thirteen cameras pointed at his face. One of them appeared to be dedicated entirely to his sweating forehead.

“C’mon Luds, focus!” Nova shouted from behind camera number six. The lights were bright, much brighter than they ever seemed on TV, and it was freezing. The sweat didn’t help.

Ludger shrugged.

“Ludger, Ludger, Ludger…” Leia sighed, peering out from her own, taller, central camera. “C’mon! This is a talking head— you gotta talk for it! Don’t think so hard, just answer our questions with the first thing that pops into your mind.”

Ludger tried. “I don’t know if I have a _culinary style_. I like to cook pretty much anything.”

“Give production something to work with— where’s your _edge_ , Ludger? Where’s your _fire_?”

Nova was punching the air. Was this a cooking competition or a cage match?

“Uh, well…” he stumbled, missing Elle already. She was still sleeping when he left. All curled up on her side like a roly-poly— she’d shoot a better talking head than he would. God he wouldn’t be able to see her for so _long_.

“Let’s…try another angle here!” Leia covered as Ludger all but dissolved into the interview seat. “Look, this is Knives Up: Amateur Hour. No one’s expecting you to be a master, you’re just an amateur, amateuring it up— but what Nova and I do is make _that_ interesting to the audience. What we need here is _story_. This isn’t about your cooking, but about your _character arc._ ”

Ludger really wasn’t sure if he was ready to have a _character arc._ He nodded anyway, and Leia punched his shoulder before taking her place back behind the camera.

“I have…” he started, then swallowed. His throat was so dry. He rubbed his now-sore arm. Why was this so hard? Fuck it.

“I’ve been cooking since I was a kid, and have always enjoyed it. I actually have a lot of friends involved in the production of this series, and they thought I could make it pretty far. I could really use the money—”

“Yeah no we can’t use that,” Nova replied. “Makes us look biased.”

“But you are biased,” Ludger argued. “ _You_ invited me.”

“But we can’t _look_ biased, Luds!”

“Also we had a whole arc last season with debt so we can’t use that angle,” Leia jumped in.“But, don’t you worry Ludger, I got the perfect arc for you— Elle!”

“Noperonni, he can’t use Elle— the network has plans for that single-dad episode for Father’s day, remember?”

Leia slapped her forehead. “Oh _shoot_ , I completely forgot about Daddies and Donuts! Well…now what? That’s kind of Ludger’s whole identity isn’t it? Cooking, debt, daughter.”

“I know! What can we do with someone so _average_?”

Ludger adjusted his tie, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Nova clapped her hands together. “You know what, Ludger? Just make something up! Say a bunch of things and the crew can just piece your storyline together in post. Go on, chatter away!”

Ludger felt himself die. Just…chatter? Like that was _easy_?

_“Ready, set, action!”_

Oh, it was going to be a long eight weeks.

— One hour before elimination challenge—

There were two men arguing inside the greenroom when Leia led Ludger back there— well, _arguing_ wasn’t the most accurate description. It took two to argue. In this case, one man was arguing, and the other was politely replying to him all while flashing apologetic smiles to the other competitors.

“Listen up _phony_! I got in here through my own _merit_ unlike _you_ —” the shouting man accused, as the more polite man rubbed the back of his neck.

“I... wasn’t questioning you. I was just wondering who put your name in, Ivar.”

“Ha! I see you are still curious to a fault, Mathis! A _rookie_ mistake! I’ll have you know _Lady Milla_ put my name in. _Lady Milla_ has amazing taste unlike— unlike— unlike— hey who put in _your_ name in, phony?

“That would be me,” Leia said, camera inches away from Ivar’s face. “So go easy there, bub.”

Ivar, to his credit, didn’t even balk. He looked Leia’s camera right in the eye, and pointed a finger at it. “ _A likely story!”_

Ludger watched the three of them the way one would watch a fascinating nature documentary.He’d met Ivar before, but it had been, as all meetings with Ivar were, an absolute blur. He’d only been to the cafeteria a couple of times, but he was a difficult man to forget.

On the other hand Ludger’s meetings with Jude had been far more memorable, if equally quick. Jude attended every single one of Leia’s parties, but never stayed longer than an hour. He was completely surrounded by people whenever he did show up. He was a regular at the station cafeteria as well, but Ludger could count on one hand the number of words they’d exchanged.

Ludger never took it personally. Anyone with eyes could see that Jude Mathis was a busy person. He had his nose in his phone most of the time— sifting through some complex calendar app.

Still, it was good to see them. Ludger was expecting to pull through with only the familiar faces of Nova and Leia to keep him company, but knowing Jude and Ivar were here...Well, he felt less alone— never mind the fact they’d be his rivals.

It was five AM now, and the competitors had been treated to some rubbery microwave eggs. For a cooking show they didn’t seem to care much about keeping them fed with the good shit. Budget went elsewhere, Ludger figured.

He scanned the rest of the room. Unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face. Rideaux was shooting a talking head so mercifully, Ludger could enjoy some peace before they had to compete against each other. His presence had been a miserable revelation, but Ludger wasn’t about to dwell on it. He needed a clear head for this.

“Leia,” Jude asked. “Where is the coffee maker?”

“Oh, sorry Jude, we don’t have one of those here.”

_“What?”_

The source of the outburst was not from Jude, or Ivar, but instead a red-haired man who had been scowling lightly in the corner.

Leia’s hands were on her hips, “This is reality TV, there’s never a coffee maker. You caffeine addicts should have a coffee maker at your hotels— pack a thermos next time!”

“I just drove in today,” Jude defended. “And we haven’t been in our hotels yet. You told us we’d get to go to them after the elimination challenge.”

“Oh shoot,” Leia replied. “Forgot we did that. Oops.”

“I can get coffee across the street,” the red-haired man said. He wasn’t asking for permission.

“Ah, whoa, whoa there Asch!” Nova jumped out, Rideaux was standing behind her, evidently having finished filming. “Competitors aren’t allowed to leave the greenroom unless they’re shooting a talking head—”

“I’ll give you a talking head then. Then coffee on the way back.” He turned to Jude. “What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee. What do you want?” He was still scowling, but there was no real rage behind it. In fact, Ludger found his intensity kind of calming. A good man to have in your corner.

“Oh, uh. Just black, please.”

“Got it.”

The red-haired man— no, Asch— was already walking out, Nova ran after him.

“Hey…” Leia said, staring after him. “Man, that guy just kind of does what he wants, doesn’t he?”

Jude stared at her. Ludger managed a quiet laugh.

— The first challenge —

The Knives Up! Kitchen looked about six times bigger than it was on TV. It was bigger than any kitchen Ludger had ever cooked in, bigger even than the station cafeteria he’d grown to manage. Stagehands were literally running back and forth— setting pots of water on stoves and wiping down counter tops.

Ludger would be doing the same thing, shortly. Man he’d really be getting his exercise these months, if he was able to make it onto the next days of competition.

All the competitors stood in a neat row as the stage manager rapidly explained the kitchen setup and how filming would work. They were to all react facing the cameras, which seemed decidedly inorganic, but such was the way of television. Ludger wasn’t going to worry about it too much. He was here to cook, not perform.

It looked like Jude and Asch never got their coffee. Asch’s talking head had lasted about twice as long as everyone else’s (evidently the crabby man had a lot to say) and by the time they finished, there simply wasn’t _time_ to get any.

He appeared to be seething about that. There was a solid two feet between Asch and the unlucky competitors next to him. He certainly didn’t look sleepy. He looked downright motivated.

 _Spite can be fuel, I guess…_ Ludger thought. _I just hope he doesn’t burn himself out._

Jude didn’t look motivated. In fact, he just looked tired, but there wasn’t time for that.

Ludger couldn’t follow what the stage manager was saying anymore. There was just so much information and it refused to nest and settle in Ludger’s brain. It tangled and fused with the pressure from the cameras and presence of Rideaux’s red, red suit next to him.

The cameras loved him. Of course they did. He was more showpiece than person.

Ludger couldn’t focus on that now. After this explanation, three hours would be on the clock, and Ludger would have to cook something worthy of being presented to an esteemed panel of judges that could make or break his career. They’d be watching him the whole time.

No pressure though, right? No pressure.

Ludger opened and closed his fists and thought of Elle— thought of Julius. His shoulders relaxed. Right, that’s really why he was here.

It was time to show them what he could do.

This was nothing compared to being seven years old and boiling water the first time after scarring Julius’s hand. Nothing compared to making tomato soup with Elle after Lara’s death. The stakes were so much higher then. This was what it always had been for Ludger— just cooking.

A way to connect, a way to share his heart when words failed. This was Ludger’s territory, Ludger’s language, and he was ready to give a fucking speech.

All contestants began with a a pot of boiling water and an oven preheated. A stagehand explained some of the more complex instruments— the Anti-Griddle and Sous Vide. Yeah, no Ludger wasn’t touching those. He’d use a basic frying pan. Whatever ingredients they were given he was going to pan-fry them and not have to sweat the time.

No need to complicate, at least not for the first challenge.

No need to complicate anything at all.

—Judging —

“What do you have for us today Chef Ludger?” Alvin asked. How someone like him managed to land a position hosting was beyond Ludger. He was a fruit salesman, not a chef, and as far as Ludger knew he wasn’t a TV personality, either. Then again, there was probably at least thirty things about Alvin that Ludger had no idea about — television experience could easily fit somewhere in the mystery void that was the odd man’s past.

Whatever. Ludger made an egg dish and the fact he could show it off to a friend as well as a panel of judges made it much easier to flash the appropriate smile for the cameras. He wiped his hands on his apron and spoke into the mic provided. Sweat was still dripping down the back of his neck, and he silently willed it to disappear. He had to look professional. _Professional. Promotion. Please._

One of the stage lights was shining directly in his eyes. He cleared his throat and began to speak directly to the judges, but mainly to Chef Rowen. He was the judge that really mattered to Ludger. _Kitchen Conductor_ was always playing in their apartment growing up—the sound of Rowen’s soothing voice explaining how to properly filet fish as familiar as Julius’s hum.

“So this is a family favorite, but I included some things my daughter definitely wouldn’t like— sorry Elle,” Ludger announced, straightening his shoulders. He got a enthusiastic thumbs up from Nova behind the camera. Guess that description gave him a little personality. “We always call them puff omelets, but I think the proper term is Soufflé omelets. They’re uh, filled with whipped ricotta cheese and roasted tomatoes. I served this one on a hash of russet potatoes, more tomatoes, sausage, and red and yellow peppers.”

“Oh?” Alvin said. “You must really like your tomatoes, Chef Ludger. I can’t relate.”

“I guess that’s why you’re not a judge, Alvin,” Ludger bluntly replied, and was quickly interrupted by Leia cackling. “Oh, sorry, can I say that?”

“Definitely not, pal,” Alvin replied, just as Leia jumped in.

“Oh that’s absolutely making the final cut, don’t you worry.”

“ _Hey_.”

A stagehand wiped the sweat from the back of Ludger’s neck as Nova adjusted one of the cameras to zoom in on Alvin’s betrayed face. Ah, reality TV.

“Well then,” Chef Rowen replied when they were properly rolling again, voice unreadable, but there was an undeniable twinkle of amusement in his eye. A true professional. He was just so _cool_ Ludger could cry. “Let’s see if your taste lives up to your lovely words _._ ”

Ludger’s heart fell to his shaking knees as the judge took the first bite.

Then, it happened. Years of watching _Kitchen Conductor_ , years of sweating in the station kitchen, years of chopping and studying and thinking and meal planning were abruptly completely worth it because Chef Rowen J. Ilbert _smiled_ after eating Ludger’s cooking.

“This is very good,” he said, voice as level as it was warm. “I was concerned how you would manage to balance the acidity of the tomatoes, but they fit in excellently with the potatoes and ricotta. I could do with a little less, still, but truly a symphony for the tastebuds.”

The pride that filled Ludger in that moment was childlike in the fearful, pure intensity of it. His mouth was moving, but Ludger had no idea what he was saying. _Thank you_ probably.

“I look forward to seeing what you make in the future,” Rowen replied.

The praise rang in his ears so loudly Ludger nearly blacked out.

And then, before he knew it, he was being escorted backstage with the rest of the chefs deemed “safe.”

He was safe. He’d get to sleep in a hotel tonight— one paid for by the network— because he’d carved out his place here. Ludger realized he was grinning. Thrilled. Validated.

He took his seat on the couch set up backstage with some of the other contestants. There were cameras here too: set up to capture their reactions to the winners and bottom two of the challenge.

Ivar, Jude, Asch, and Rideaux all remained on stage.

Ludger felt his heart pull for the first three and silently wished the fourth down a well. He hadn’t seen much of their struggles— it was a substantial kitchen after all, but he did smell plenty of burning dishes. It was anyone’s game at this point. Ludger was lucky to be out of the hot seat.

The judge’s meticulously ran through the results, praising Rideaux and Asch. Rideaux, it seemed, had actually used the sous vide, while Asch had used a frying pan, similar to Ludger.

Without the commercial breaks, the results were announced surprisingly fast:

Asch was the winner of the challenge, Rideaux honorable mention, and Jude and Ivar were in the bottom two.

Asch took the win gracefully, if brusquely, and Rideaux actually laughed into his hand as he exited the stage. What was wrong with him? Both men joined the competitors on the couches backstage. Rideaux hovering behind Ludger’s left shoulder, undoubtedly just wanting to breathe on his neck. Ludger stood up, uncomfortable and Rideaux swiftly took his seat.

 _Asshole._ Ludger thought. _You’re such an asshole._

On the TV, Rowen began to critique Jude and Ivar’s dishes. Jude it seemed had attempted to steam his eggs, not unlike Rideaux, but had run out of time. His dish wasn’t raw, but it was definitely underdone. Ivar had opted to make a Spanish omelette, but had gotten a little too adventurous with the interior.

“There are too many flavors,” Rowen explained. “The tastes aren’t working together, but competing for attention.”

“Competing!? I’ll have _you_ know this is Lady Milla’s _favorite_ —”

Ludger cringed. Arguing with the judges on the first day? Ivar had balls, but would they work win his favor?

“Hey,” A hand nudged Ludger’s right shoulder, quick but forceful. “Who the hell is Lady Milla?” It was Asch.

Ludger blinked, struggling for words for a moment.

“You don’t know about _Lady Milla_?” Rideaux weighed in, completely unprompted. “Unfortunate you aren’t involved with the _mukbang_ side of youtube, Asch. She’s quite famous.”

“Did I ask you?” Asch replied, so bluntly, so quickly that Ludger couldn’t contain his amused laugh. Asch glanced his way, and Ludger could have sworn he saw something resembling a smile on his face.

Asch was okay, he decided.

Rideaux scoffed. “I was only trying to be useful. My, everyone is on edge this morning—”

“Shut up, they’re announcing,” Ludger spoke up, gesturing to the TV. Man, it felt amazing to tell Rideaux to shut up— he should do it more often.

Chef Rowen looked appropriately solemn, holding the knife that had the name of the chef that was to be sent home in his lap. Jude was staring straight ahead, quietly accepting, while Ivar seemed positively _coiled_.

Slowly, Rowen turn the knife around, revealing a name to the cameras.

Ivar.

“I am sorry Ivar, but it is time to put your knives…up.”

There was a moment of silence. Jude seemed thrown, but not as thrown as Ivar.

“I…lost? To the phony?” Ivar started, and Ludger noticed the way every camera in the room seemed to zoom in on him, ready for the explosion.

To everyone’s surprise though, none came. Not really.

Ivar pointed at the camera and said in the same tone of voice he always had.

“Well, _I_ didn’t want to be here _anyway_.”


End file.
